Monthly Archives: January 2010

The Journal of Dreams 01/31/2010 Experiment

Today has been filled with crushing rainbow quartz.  It has been a hard job but very good for anger management!  There is a lot of white powder residual I will have to sift out.  The goal is to leave only the sparkling shards.  Remarkably I have not received any cuts on my fingers yet which was an expectation since it is like glass once it is broken up.

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The effect is not what I imagined.  I wanted all the colors of the rainbow to easily be seen.  This is not astounding and dramatic.  By adding hologram glitter, the effect is almost there but if I have to use the hologram glitter to get the effect, what is the point of crushing the rainbow quartz?  The effect of rainbow quartz is definitely best see by leaving it intact.

Ideally I need a sheet of rainbow quartz fiber optically lit from the back illuminating the rainbow by movement of the lights.  The sheet of quartz would have to be so thin that the weight of itself would break it.  I wonder what the price of a 48″ x 48″ piece would be?  I am still unsure if that would be the effect I am dreaming of.  I think I will look for hologram flakes, if there is such a thing.

I have to sit down and quietly imagine how to separate the sparkle of God from the “sea of glass-like fine crystal” in front of the throne since both are similar in appearance.  This is going to be another hard section to create.  Even though I anticipated glitches here and there, this section of the painting is extremely complicated and requires true imagination.

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The Journal of Dreams 01/30/2010

I had an idea about STOCK CARDS where a person could own a one foot section of The Revelation Painting for one year.  I thought this would give people with families or students trying to go to college an opportunity to make money for a modest investment.  The more I thought about it, I realized that if a person had $100.00 ($110.00 because of associated fees and shipping), to invest, they were probably not needing the money as bad as someone who does not have it.

I don’t think I will push the STOCK CARDS to hard.  I think that I will give them to people I know need help in some way.  The cards are on their way and I cannot wait to give them to people!  I feel like how the Grinch felt when “his heart grew ten times that day”.  Currently I have nothing and either do the people who will receive the cards.  We can only hope for the best and hope this painting explodes in value.  The first place I will travel is Africa to wrestle a lion!

Some time back I had watched a Discovery Channel show about orphaned baby elephants.  Did you know that elephants travel great distances to die in the elephant graveyard?  It’s a place full of old, and new elephant bones.  The show captured a baby elephant who went to the elephant graveyard.  He rummaged around the bones until he found one that he stood over and swung his head back and forth.  Tears poured from his eyes.  It was so sad but ultimately beautiful.

The Journal of Dreams 01/29/2010

No wonder Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s heart was older than its time…

I understand.

Revelation \Rev`e*la”tion\, n. [F. r[‘e]v[‘e]lation, L. revelatio. See Reveal.]

1. The act of revealing, disclosing, or discovering to others what was before unknown to them. [1913 Webster]

2. That which is revealed. [1913 Webster]

3. (Theol.)
   (a) The act of revealing divine truth.
   (b) That which is revealed by God to man; esp., the Bible. [1913 Webster]

By revelation he made known unto me the mystery, as I wrote afore in few words. –Eph. iii. 3. [1913 Webster]

4. Specifically, the last book of the sacred canon, containing the prophecies of St. John; the Apocalypse or Book of Revelation or The Revelation of Saint John. [1913 Webster]

revelation

noun

1: the speech act of making something evident [syn: disclosure, revealing]
2: an enlightening or astonishing disclosure
3: communication of knowledge to man by a divine or supernatural agency
4: the last book of the New Testament; contains visionary descriptions of heaven and of conflicts between good and evil and of the end of the world; attributed to Saint John the apostle [syn: Revelation of Saint John the Divine, Apocalypse, Book of Revelation]

THE REVELATION PAINTING

~made known unto me the mystery~

Little was know what this all meant until today.  The core of this entire project shines into and around me.  The Revelation Painting has evolved from an originally religious painting to a painting which reveals truth in so many levels.  The truth of corruption and religion itself, the truth about power and its manipulation of humanity, the truth of how life is meaningless where the opportunity exist to make money and the true crimes against humanity occurring every single day!

Although it has “always been this way”, does it have to remain this way?  If a person was not born into wealth, does it make them any less of a human being?  This is the true core of the matter.  I tried to explain to a doctor once that the world is losing its humility, modesty and compassion for one another and he abruptly stated:  “We are human, we make mistakes.”  I thought:  “That is the biggest mistake of all; making excuses for ignorance as though that makes it unavoidable.”

Who, not what gives the wealthy of this earth the absolute right to make decisions which destroys human life?  It should be the other way around in a world where human existence has value.  Instead of having ten mansions that a person cannot possibly live in at the same time, it should be mandatory to forfeit minimally 10% of net income to a measurable cause.  Measurable, meaning the world see’s the effect and people truly benefit.

When you have some much money you can’t spend it, ten houses, 5 yachts, eighteen cars, and on and on, why not feed a child a piece of bread to give her strength to walk away from a vulture standing over her waiting patiently for her demise?  Why should any fellow human being have to endure that type of torture-EVER?  There are children in South Africa who don’t even know we have been to the moon…imagine.  In a way, that may be better, then they will never know how the world left them behind…our brothers and sisters.

They will never know how our greediness destroyed the earth and killed the dreams they never even knew they had…

In A World Not So Far From Your Own

In a world not so far from your own there is a distant rumble of horses’ hooves on cobblestone streets.
The spine chilling shrill of medieval swords mating in the moonlight conceiving justice and honor.
Beautiful souls seek desperately for the answers but haven’t yet asked the questions.

Murals depicting beauty and faith; angelic women fade from the walls of his castle.
Each season brings more unbearable heat and frustration…

The big fish, our brothers no longer sparkle in the twilight of the sea

as they did in their final rage.
Trees we planted, which in fact were faithful to the end are all gone now,
they house this realm we call technology.

In a world not so far from your own
ugly, hollow faces stare down on our children laughing at what we’ve left them:

No horses or swords to fight their battles, no forest to seek shelter,

no imagination from which to rebuild their dreams…
In a world not so far from your own.

The Journal of Dreams 01/28/2010

I had a dream last night that the black horse had wings like a bird!  Not like an angel but huge wings that carried his 9 foot body effortlessly.  They were black with blue in them like crows wings and when he flapped them to fly it made a thundering noise.  He had no rider and smoke came from his nostrils because he was flying so fast as though his mission was more than what his body could handle.  His urgency caused him to fly hard and fast often taking time to glide in order to rest.

I was standing in a field of tall grass and when I saw him in the sky, his passage in front of the sun caused a great shadow on the ground.  The grass moved in waves from the turbulence his wing created.  I looked up and could see the fury in his green eye, like panic.  I ran as fast as I could to jump and fly with him but could not get off the ground.  Falling, I grabbed hold of the grass to hold on as I had run to the edge of the world and was about to fall…in that moment I woke up.

My heart was pounding and I felt sadness, not fear.  My sadness came from my inability to fly and catch up with him.  It was as though his eyes pleaded with me to help him with his mission but I was unable to get my feet off the ground.  He looked back and saw me fall but had to continue without me and I understood.  It was though he knew that I had given all I had but it was not enough.  I wonder what that dream meant?  Too much television?

The Journal of Dreams 01/27/2010

I started painting the white background on the custom canvases-64 square feet (4-4 foot canvases).  The brush I am using is 1″ and it is clear that I should have used a roller!  This is an absolutely huge painting that gives a lot of time to think about things as you work on it.  I like to keep tabs on what I think about when painting certain things.  Painting is therapy and the huge white canvas(es) are waiting for the artist to spill their thoughts upon it.

Today I imagined the Old Masters and their thoughts while painting some of their best works.  Also, I wondered how much background noises had to do with their thoughts.  In the 1600’s there were probably bird sounds and carriages pulled by horses.  The click-clack of their feet in motion may have kept a beat used to stroke the painting at a certain pace, or maybe the noises threw off the artist’ concentration when trying to do intricate work.

Did the artist paint in solitude or was there an audience watching?  Imagination is a wonderful thing which can take a person into a different realm of existence.  I could turn into someone else while painting, I could find myself hanging by strings like a puppet while I paint, I could go as  far as my imagination would carry me, or that I let it.  In the medical field, an experience like that would be termed psychosis.  I once read that artist view life differently.

What I have noticed is that art and critical care or emergency nursing could complement one another but do not go well together.  There are too many extenuating circumstances that get in the way.  There are too many details that I see which overwhelms me so I try not to see anything beyond the issues at hand.  If time slows down for some reason, it can be an asset, otherwise getting caught up in the details will often get you behind.

A good example is high blood pressure.  A person may come to the emergency room for a completely different ailment.  But as soon as the person walks in they may have a certain tone of color which changes from the neck up, a darker appearance to the skin.  Although the blood pressure may be elevated, if it is not in the danger zone, it is not addressed as rigorously.  The change in skin tone indicates a prolonged battle with high blood pressure sometimes known, sometimes not known.

Most people would not pick up on that subtle change but an artist can see it right away such as in the paleness of lips or especially the lower eyelid that reveals itself in anemia.  It may prove useful for medical students to take classes in painting the human face and becoming aware of the natural colors of the skin when they are not related to diseases and when they are.  Often times things are missed just because someone thinks it is a natural color.

The Journal of Dreams 01/26/2010

Sketching today and working on the social networking sites.  I am going to research a site analytics program to see where the visitors are coming from.  It would be interesting to see if I can find one that tells me the countries, and even better the cities.  I often wonder if the Pope is keeping up with the work.

I need to focus on my day job since presently I do not have one!

The Journal of Dreams 01/25/2010

I have worked on the Scene II God sketches and am finding some problems.  I had originally planned to make a fiber optically lit area which concentrated in about a 3 foot area dissipating over approximately 5 feet to the left and 6 feet to the right.  The problem is that I did not consider placement of the Four Living Creatures or the effect of where the 24 elders would be.  The scene is further complicated by the 7 candlesticks or the one candlestick with 7 candles in it.

I had planned to make the light the center focus but to do that, the frame of the wooden canvases (built to hold the fiber optic cables, with doors on the backs).  The wooden canvases are being made and will have to be used as originally planned.  The key is to shrink the core size of the bulk of the light and make it widely scattered as it comes off the core.  Holes will have to be drilled through art which is already completed.  There is a big risk to this plan.

I could jeopardize the finished work by drilling through it, or drill first, but then I would have to work around the finished work.  That, to me causes far more problems than completing it then drilling.  I am considering using the color wheel, pastel fiber optics in the scattered holes away from the core.  Then the changing color will take away from the loss of light from not drilling through the frames and decreasing the canvases integrity.

The Four Living Creatures will have so many eyes that pupils and holes will be difficult to distinguish since that part of the painting is up around 10 feet from the viewers direct vision, which is an asset in this section.  The drilled holes of light do not actually need to be through the creatures but the effect of “being in God’s light” is important I feel to show that these creatures are a significant part of God as they are with him at his throne.

The 24 elders (priest) are undecided  at this time.  I am thinking to making them somewhat blurry from the light of God and not detailed, just the likeness of 24 men.  The 2nd part of the painting; Truth-The Hemorrhage of Pigs! also poses another problem.  With thermochromics, the rule is “the thinner, the better” and with the clear to red it is imperative not to have any thicker areas because it will remain pink.  Red is a hard pigment to work with.

To solve this problem, I was thinking about very thin plexiglass since thermochromics have to be replaced (washed off and re-coated) around 1-2 times a year.  If the plexiglass was removable, it would be a much simpler task and re=coating would be easier as well.  The plexiglass would be thin enough not to add width to the painting and make it seem uniform.  I will have to get the plexiglass cut in a custom drip pattern to appear as though blood is running down.

What I imagined to be a simple and fast scene has truly become very complicated.  This scene is most likely the most important of the entire painting.  It moves and is brightly lit, and it bleeds.  I will also be using the crushed rainbow quartz, the glitters of “diamond dust”, hologram and plain white.  This scene will need the strongest sealer I can find due to the wear and tear and the elements used to create it.  I am always focused on the painting’s ability to withstand the test of time.

The Journal of Dreams 01/24/2010

I was awake 24 hours trying to work and research the faces of the creatures connected to me since childhood.  I dreamt of them for a long, long time but never understood why.  Researching them and looking into their eyes, may help me to understand.  During my research time, I unburied my colored pencils knowing I would need them for the eyes of the creatures.  I sat sharpening hundreds of colored pencils getting them ready.  It’s been too long since I used them and I missed them.

What I have come up with so far is that the six wings of each creature will have multicoloured eyes representing every race and nationality.  There maybe eyes of every color of the rainbow-natural or not.  To relieve wasting paint, I think I will mix colors into colors until I get to “mud” which is a term used when mud color results from many colors mixed together.  It is a tragedy in painting unless you are looking for it.  In this case I will need the browns.

I also went to look at feathers today.  There are some magnificent feathers out there!  I was draw to the peacock of course but the eyes at the ends will clash with the humanistic eyes I am striving to create.  The fancy feathers also appealed to me, like the ones which sit on top of the head like a mohawk, but they would be difficult to place as they are meant to stand straight up.  I will look on Ebay for feather sellers and see what is there.

The Journal of Dreams 01/23/2010

I was just thinking about calling my mother…she’s dead.  She died in 2006 unexpectantly.  I don’t know how many times I thought about calling her since then.  The day she died, I was living in Philadelphia and had been sick for 2 days, the flu or something and really bad laryngitis.  Feeling as though I couldn’t sleep anymore, and got up to start painting a picture for my daughter; the one I promised her for the past several years.  There was a specific photo of her I had in mind where she was wearing a velvet, olive-green, 1940’s short hat-the kind that just sits on the top of the head without sides and has mesh over the eyes to the lips.

I had started with the lips because I knew the detail of the mesh would be hard to do without messing it up.  Her painted red lips where a stark contrast to the olive-green of her eyes and the hat.  About 3/4 of the way through the lips I realized it was not that photo I had painted, it was someone else’s lips.  I continued to paint thinking I will paint my daughter’s painting after finishing this stranger I had found myself mysteriously painting.  I started thinking about the lips my mother used to put on napkins and give to us as children by pressing her painted lips against the soft paper.  They were kisses that were captured forever on the napkin that we could keep in our drawers, or books, or any place we wanted-forever.

The lips had evolved into almost the entire canvas, not leaving room for any other parts of the face.  I remember sitting there, smoking a cigarette, looking at the lips when the phone rang.  It was my father and he said:  “I don’t want you to crack up or anything but your mother is dead.”  I just kept saying:  “I know, I know, I know.”  I didn’t cry or feel shock.  I don’t remember what we said next, I just remember staring at the lips I had just painted.  Sometime after we hung up I realized I had starred at the lips for a while, wondering if my mother suffered at all and what exactly happened.  Then I realized I had been painting her lips at the moment she died…the kiss on the napkin that got bigger and bigger.

She was telling me goodbye through the skill that she had taught me, to paint.  She knew my great passion for painting and how more appropriate could it have been?  I named the painting:  MARY ANN’S LAST KISS and it rest comfortably in my private collection along with the other very special paintings which were given to me as gifts although painted by my hand.  Holy Mary is one-read about her on the home page and how she came to be at:  www.therevelationpainting.com.  The world is odd, things that happen are odd and I love these mysteries.  I miss my mother but know that she had a promise to fulfill for the time she was given.  If there is a God, he would not have let her leave if he thought she would not return.  She had an angel’s work to do.

The Journal of Dreams 01/22/2010

Da Vinci was a brilliant man and a trickster apparently.  I think he spent a lot of time amusing himself.  Definitely he was ahead of his time.  That is what I am wondering about today.  Why are some people “ahead” of their times?  There is a simple philosophy I discovered some time ago when I tried to understand the who, what, when, where and how of us as human beings.  What I came up with was that we are products of all of our interactions and experiences.  How could we be more than that if we never experienced it or learned it?  In DaVinci’s case it was imagination which allowed him to cross the boundaries of technology, to create flying machines in his mind and apply them to paper.  Of course he had to have some understanding of flight and gravity as well as other understanding of the things he built.

What about poets who write about things they have not experienced and the use of words that they never have used and do not know what they mean?  Where did that come from?  I wonder about the transition between life and death.  Just because we do not physically see a body anymore when someone dies, does that mean that they are not here with us?  What I have learned as a trauma nurse is that a body is a heavy burden to carry.  It only houses our spirit and our soul.  Even from the day we are born, this physical body is heavy for us regardless of its weight.  Imagine if your spirit was a fleeting light which darted from place to place too fast for the human eye to catch it?  It seems right when talking about the bright light of God and that we were created in his image doesn’t it?  Haven’t you ever seen something from the corner of your eye only to turn and it is gone?

What if that is a spirit that our physical bodies aren’t fast enough to keep up with and that our physical brains chalk up to impossible because it does not have the capability to understand it, something like a self-preservation mode.  If it seems illogical, then the brain rejects it.  What is that we see from the corner of our eye?  Also, if you have ever noticed that when you are extremely tired, it is then that those things become more clear.  Sometimes when I am exhausted, when I wake up for the first few minutes when I move my arms, it is like a trail of arms because the mind cannot keep up with the movement.  It is like drawing a picture which changes ever so slightly on the page corners of a book.  When you fold the pages back and let it flip, it creates a movie.

Our brain may be fast enough when it is rested, but what when it is tired?  Do we see the individual pieces which make the whole picture?  How do I not know at this very moment, that there aren’t spirits surrounding me watching me work?  Just because I cannot see it, it does not mean that it isn’t so.  How do we know that DaVinci didn’t sketch those flying machines through a guided hand of a spirit?  We do not.  Often times people say I think too much.  They are only seeing the waking part of my thinking.  If they saw the sleeping part of my thinking (my dreams), they would wonder how I survive at all!  How do we know that we are not someone reincarnated?  How do we know that we do not come back over and over just to experience all the things we didn’t understand the first time around?  Where does Deja vu come from?

Circle of Seven

 Would it be marvelous to save this old and weary soul?

 Shadows dance aimlessly toward its demise. Visionless of what we have and limitless in belief it will never end, we seem to anticipate a brighter explosion of tomorrow through darkness of yesterday’s eyes.

 Mumbling voices echo, hit their knees for the first time. Prayer trickles through empty corridors as a soul begs to be set free. Physical limitations crushing, override the spirit. So it creeps in, this thing called destiny.

 No sadness lingers at lifetime’s edge, no mystery unraveled, or story to tell. Only the tempting call of affirmation and worth when ones standing are left behind, as the soul rises from its heavy shell.

 Shadows move closer to graciously accept, the soul dances weightless within the heaven-bound circle of seven. Rejoicing tears splash on earth mimicking soft rain as the old, weary soul travels gently toward heaven.

The Journal of Dreams 01/21/2010

I spent the majority of the day looking at the faces of lions, calf’s, and eagles.  These are extremely beautiful animals!  I also researched meaning and perceived meanings of The Four Living Creatures.  I found other parts where they are mentioned but the description is different.  I am wondering what these creatures truly represent but more so wondering what my personal connection to them are.  These are the creatures I have dreamed about since I was a child and through all the photos I have searched, there are no similarities from any other artist’ that come close to what I imagined they look like.

I learned a lot from painting the black horse and being unprepared.  I cannot repaint the creatures over and over because I am using real feathers for their wings in some places.  It seems like all the art I have done throughout my life is somehow tied to this painting.  I used feathers in several paintings depicting angels of one sort or another.  Feathers are hard to manage, you have to put down an adhesive and gently work the feather into it with a stiff brush to capture the detail of each individual line which make up the feather itself.  They are very delicate and need patience which is a lacking attribute for me.

Painting eyes on feathers might pose a critical problem.  Even placing the feathers might cause degradation after time since they are carbon based (once living).  Hopefully the lacquer will seal them forever leaving minimal opportunity for deterioration.  I might consider painting feathers under them in case they deteriorate.  White feathers are the best, then from what I learned about highlighting to created depth in texture from the sky, I can color them grey, or other colors and the white is like fresh, white canvas allowing the actual color to show in its brilliant and true pigment.

The Journal of Dreams 01/20/2010

The four wooden canvases are up and ready for the creation of God!  This is a dangerous project.  Since I live in an apartment, I really cannot hammer big nails in the walls to hold these wooden canvases so I had to be creative.  Each canvas is held in place be strips of silk tape and tacked to the wall.  Every few hours, the right top one works its way forward and I have to re-tack it.  I think it is a little warped.  Hopefully in adding the moisture of paint and re-tacking it often, the minute warp will resolve.  In the interim, I have to be extremely careful not to let it fall.  Due to the weight of it, it would cause damage to itself and/or the environment.

This area is what I have dreamed about my entire life and it is exciting to think about starting it.  The upper left canvas is the core of where God will be,  Originally he was going to cover 4 canvases in a circle of light but the wood-worker brought up a good point about drilling holes through the frames and the mismatch of light.  If holes are drilled through the frames in the amounts needed from 2mm-6mm, it would destroy the integrity of the canvas.  If I tried to expand light from one canvas to the other, there would be a line of no light where the frame is.  I made the core of light on the upper left-a circle taking up nearly the entire canvas.

I searched and searched for the sparkle I imagined for this section.  Glitter which encompasses all the colors of the rainbow, although the bible mentions an “emerald” rainbow around God, I do not believe it means green.  I believe the rainbow to be reds and oranges as noted in blogs I have written about the stones of The Revelation Painting-specifically The New City.  I am looking at 6 coats of the brightest white, followed by placement of the rainbow in reds and oranges around the throne.  The throne is also a problem.  What kind of throne?  I researched in google images for pictures of thrones and am undecided.

If the light is bright and brilliant, I may be able to make only pieces of the throne visible under shadows which block the light, like from the wings of The Four Living Creatures.  I thought this would be an easy section to paint, prehaps the easiest of the entire painting but am fast learning that it may be the most complicated scene!  I had problems with the candlesticks early on and now the throne.  From my mother’s description in her story of God, she said he was the “brightest light”.  About 10 years ago I contacted NASA for a custom-made light that would insult the eyes but not harm them.  I never heard back.

It seemed as though The New City would have been the finale’ of the painting but it now seems nearly every scene is a finale’ in itself.  If I can imagine it all together, I would see the attraction for the lights and movement in Scene II (including the Hemorrhage-the bleed), but now The Four Horsemen of Scene III has become very dramatic, and Babylon will sparkle prehaps more than the crushed stones of The New CIty!  It is a magnificent work of art.  I cannot wait to see it all together myself.  I just keep imagining myself standing before it, all put together for the first time.  The news cameras are there, so many people and I bust out crying.

The Journal of Dreams 01/19/2010

Worked a little on the pale horse and provided him with a coat of translucent green; a green wash-according to the Aramaic bible and the original translation from Jesus’ language.  I was going to paint a skeleton rider since the his name is death but quickly found he need more research and pre-sketching.  I put that section up for now.

I went back to the sky and highlighted it to match a little better in its transition from light to dark.  I began work on the Locust over six years ago.  It is difficult to work on them by hanging the canvas on the wall, I have to stand on a step stool and the detail of their faces is hard to focus on when your feet are not well grounded.  I will have to take it down for that work.

Thinking about what was originally named The Woman and the Beast which is actually Babylon, I decided to rename that scene to Babylon.  I had not thought much about this scene, had not really sketched it or measured it.  I have decided to use a form of art I used to use quite often for the making of Babylon.  I will have to work out some kinks.

I used to paint murals on the walls in apartments I lived in.  I spent a lot of time and money on those really beautiful works of art, then I would move and leave them behind.  The last few I painted took up the entire largest wall in the living rooms.  I had mastered them so that it had the illusion that you could walk into it.  Most were cities-big sparkling cities.

The windows were made from rhinestone which sparkled day and night.  They really added a lot to just sitting in the room.  I had found myself in the middle of watching television, starring into the city instead.  The most attractive rhinestone were the rich, dark colors of Emerald, Red, and the rich, dark golds.  Sometimes the corners of the rooms would transition to forest and work around the room.

Once the forest were done, I would place real trees in big, colorful pots in strategic places to make you feel as though you were sitting in a rainforest looking at the city in the distance.  That kind of art is good for the soul and leaves the imagination free.  If I had every gotten settled, I planned to have Macaws for my forest.  I fancied the Green Wing and Hyacinth.

That is the one thing about art.  If you dream it, you can create it.  I dreamt of a fantasy place that does not exist (as far as I know), and I created it as I envisioned it.  Art is wonderful for just that purpose.  Once I lived where the steps going upstairs were suspended on poles and through the steps I painted a huge, colorful, cartoon snake with big, playful eyes…he was great.

There are 3 murals on the walls of a critical care unit that I painted with nature sounds piped in.  That is a nice effect!  I painted them 7-8 years ago and now and then I call to see if they are still there.  It would be interesting to see how many people felt that those murals inspired their health and wellness in any way.  I once wanted to travel all over painting “healing” murals.  Maybe someday…

The Journal of Dreams 01/18/2010

Six more days (actually nights) until this job ends.  Last night I took care of a lady who brought an ambulance in to the hospital EMERGENCY ROOM because her “butt bone” was sore from dancing the night before.  No wonder our country is in such debt and trouble.  The ambulance drivers say they cannot turn anyone away if they want to come to the hospital.  Another guy used the ambulance to get a ride to the other side of town by saying his big toe hurt.  He came in and left.  So what happens here?  The people are on “public assistance”, that means your money and my money pays for their lives-EVERY ASPECT of their lives.  That means, their food, their water, their alcohol, their shampoo, their dancing, their ambulance cab rides, their disability trips to London, France, roundtrip, their passports, their apartments and houses, their cars, their gas, their methamphetamines, their jail time and hospital bills, their 3 hots and a cot when they get arrested for selling vicoden, morphine, Oxycontin gathered from 2 days of hospital hopping receiving legal prescriptions over and over making more money than I do!  We pay for their degrees while in jail, their rehab when they run out of heroin money so they can receive methadone to stay buzzed until their first of the month check rolls in again, their free food, free utilities, vouchers, free disability equipment they sell on Ebay, and so on and so on and so on.  And all the while other people work 13-14 hour shifts, break their backs and pay for it.  Whatever…Land of the FREE (for real), home of the brave…America.  I’d better go to bed.

The Journal of Dreams 01/17/2010

The snow is falling today.  When I got off work this morning there were frosted snowflakes on the windows of my car.  While I waited for the car to warm up, I took pictures of them with my cell phone.  The colors where sparkling blues, greens, yellows, oranges, just about every color of the rainbow.  Although I was freezing and tired, it wasn’t too much to sit for 10 minutes trying to capture the sparkle and magic of it all.  I think that is otherwise known as “smelling the roses”.

I studied the amazing natural designs and stunning details.  The colors were what I imagined God to be in The Revelation Painting.  The closest thing I know to that effect is hologram glitter.  It has every color of the rainbow within it.  Diamonds of course have that effect to but are not only out of my reach, I do not think I would give diamond thieves the satisfaction even if I had the money for them.  Search blood diamonds and see the stories.

I will be moving the 4 canvases down today and replacing them with 4 wooden canvases and start working on God.  I imagine this morning inspired me to start working on it.  I was going to work in the other direction since some of the work on those canvases was done long ago.  Maybe it is a better approach to work from start to finish in the direction of the painting, as I have already seen that the black horse is bigger than my original sketch and measurements in The Journal of Measures.

The need to sleep is overwhelming almost every time I try to paint.  I have set goals and am forcing myself to paint even if I do not think I can.  In effort to get relief, I built a page into the website called GIVE/TAKE where not only did I list the things needed to complete the painting, but I listed avenues for corporate sponsorship.  Hopefully someone will take an interest in the painting and support me enough to allow for restful painting instead of fatigued painting.  I am prepared either way.

The Journal of Dreams 01/16/2010

The Pale Horse according to my theory is the representative of the Mongoloid race which according to the origins of races began in Asia and crossed to the Americas by a giant ice bridge a long time ago.  When I researched the four primary races I was shocked to learn that we in America, who I thought we Caucasoid were actually Mongoloid.  

It makes sense that a hair dresser once told me that I had a double crown on the nap of my neck like people of Asian decent.  I carried that mystery with me for a long, long time wondering about it and my ancestors.  The most I really know about myself only dates back to my great, great grandparents and before their existence in America is unknown.  

I used the website www.ancestry.com and it took my name back to the Scottish people but it was a different name than now.  There is a photo of a Native American woman my father has that he stated was his grandmother.  She was a strong, big woman with long black hair.  My father remembered little about her in the way of facts but remembered she was “an Indian”.  

My father said she had breathing problems and washed her hair with salt because the water would make her sick (whether it was the water or not is unknown).  He said she would rub salt into her hair and make it shiny black.  He also remembered that she smoked cigars.  I wondered how common it was for women to smoke cigars back in the day.  

I had an aunt that had the same big-boned, powerful presence with long, black hair who died relatively young with Lupus.  Often time we inherit the diseases of our ancestors and it may have been Lupus that the great grandmother had which can affect the lungs since it is an autoimmune disorder where the body attacks it’s own connective tissues.  

Long ago, when I was in my early twenties, I remember walking past a mirror and for a split second I saw my grandfather’s face in my face, just for a split second.  I realized that we shed pieces of ourselves through our seeds until we have nothing left to shed; we give ourselves away and never really die, we are within our children, their children, and so on.  

When I was young, I imagined God created people on something like an assembly line and had to draw people very fast.  Sometimes he would forget an arm or leg, or other things that made people “whole” and that was why some people were deformed or died at birth.  It is funny how our minds work when we are young as we seek answers.  

As long as I can remember, I always sought answers to the things I did not understand.  I like to think I have an analytical mind.  We I stepped out of the protection of the small neighborhood I was raised in and into the big city I saw homeless people, the big money skyscrapers of corporate America and there seemed such a mismatch of power.  I began to write poetry:  

Answer Me! 

  

Secrets of a million minds pulling together; a force of one Answers to riddles begin to fall in place
Answers are not allowed here!  

Fear sets in amongst the strong
Confidence corrupts the timid
The world is turned upside down, yet only for a moment
Then sweet, sweet silence… 
Interrupted 
Laughter bellows from the city walls
Dark alleyways summon you by name
The secrets of a million minds whisper softly down cobblestone streets
Answers are not allowed here!  

Sunlight cannot reach the homeless
Towering masses of brick and mortar shadow their existence
Their “mere existence”
Such angry hatred dances on wicked fingertips down cobblestone streets 
And the tear stretches down
Like fire, it burns from the soul
Eyes upturned, begging for answers
Secrets of a million minds, although as loud as thunder
Whisper too silently to hear the answer
For, answers are not allowed here!  

The Journal of Dreams 01/15/2010

I worked all night on the sky and Martin Luther on the horse.  At the art supply store, the best thing I found was YES paste.  It has a thickness, is archival and does not yellow after time which does not make a significance difference in the painting because I mixed it with liquid acrylics to create a relatively stable color.

The blow dryer ran for hours last night as I worked feverishly to surprise the Police Officer next door.  It was he who suggested the sky be done in that way.  I told him that I had considered doing it in that technique but when he said to consider it, it sealed the plan.  He will be surprised the next time I call him over to see the painting.

Using a plastic spoon, I scooped out 3 heaping teaspoons in a metal mixing cup then added an estimated 2 tablespoons of liquid acrylic color.  Mixing it in my hand, I found the warmth of my hand against the metal cup allowed the YES paint to soften to a little thicker consistency than honey, then let it stiffen at room temperature.

I applied “globs” and “globs” to the painting then when through them with the brush to create trails swirling around.  It was more difficult than I imagined.  It is not easy to swirl designs and make them look light and airy.  I let the sky travel on to Martin Luther’s cheek and face to make him become one with the sky, as he is now.

After drying the paste and paint to a solid enough surface to lightly brush, I initially and very lightly brushed pastel colors over the ridges of texture.  The effect was unacceptable as it is too small of an area (believe it or not) to go from light to the dark of the accompanying Locust on the right side, so I darkened the sky.

Using bold colors mimicking the backdrop of the television show Who’s Line Is It Anyway, made from bold, bright colors I dried them and highlighted the sky in white for uniformity.  The bold color showed modestly in the deep texture and the white is on the protruding texture followed by Interference Blue to blend in the Locust.

I wrote backwards above Martin Luther’s head:  PROFOUND INSPIRATION which will only be visible via X-ray, and maybe not even then since this section of the painting is on a custom, wood (Birch) canvas.  It was my thank you to him for his sacrifice to make the world better for all of us, a private message…

When I went to Michael’s, I custom ordered the last 5 gallery wrap canvases needed for the painting.  I have 4 wooden canvases coming and that will be finally, after 12 years, the entire 30 canvases I need to complete the painting.  The gallery wraps are around $110.00 a piece and they were on sale…what a lucky find!

Actually I needed one extra canvas because I used one years ago painting gigantic red blood cells.  That canvas will be used in the painting and painted over.  Just know that the blood of life is pulsating under this painting as blood pulsates under our skin keeping us alive.  A beautiful thought, a beautiful vision!

The Journal of Dreams 01/14/2010

Golden acrylics are one of the most expensive paints to paint with, so much so that I will have to find another way to create the rich texture of the sky.  I want it to rise up from the canvas at least 2mm-3mm, even 4mm of possible.  Upon working on it, it was with rapid realization that I noticed the sky requires too much paint to achieve that deep texture.  My favorite art supply store is Michaels where just about everything I need for the painting can be found there and if it is not, it can be custom ordered.  The other evening I was there, exploring my options and saw texture building mediums.  Tonight I will go there and see what I can find to build texture.

The plan is to use Van Gogh’s Starry Night technique but to an extreme.  I had read that when Van Gogh made that painting his sight was so deteriorated that the painting reflected how he had come to actually see things due to exposure from the toxic elements of the paint and pigments he used.  Paint in modern times is supposed to be free of those life altering toxins which is imperative for artist’ like me who have a very real habit of licking their paint brushes.  Further research revealed to me that the Old Master’s often times licked their brushes too.  No reason for it was found in my research but I know why I lick my brushes and probably why they did to.

Often times when painting, an artist mixes a custom color that is difficult to duplicate.  I find myself adding saliva to the brush to fade the last remaining color away.  I used the technique as a shadowing effect, especially with darker colors leaving the same color as mixed, just fading away.  I am unsure if the Old Master’s used the technique for any other purpose other than the reason I use it.  I am unsure when I started doing it, finding myself with a colored tongue is what brought it to my attention, then I realized exactly when and why I do it.

A while back I had run across an old art store going out of business.  They had some powdered pigments in the brightest oranges and yellows.  I bought them for a substantial discount.  Somehow I had looked right past the skull and crossbones on their labels as I focused on the vibrant colors.  That was about 10 years ago and I haven’t ever opened them, afraid of forgetting and licking them as it has become second nature for me.  They sit on a shelf where I admire them but am unsure of myself in the middle of painting to remember they are poison.

The Journal of Dreams 01/13/2010

I started finishing up the black horse rider, Martin Luther King Jr., today.  Initially The Revelation Painting was a religious painting but in September 2009 I discovered information on the internet which would change all that.  Upon searching for investment gemstones and gemstone for the painting, I stumbled across information about The New World Order.  What I found devastated me!  Digging deeper into the plan for world dominance, I saw information about concentration camps being built here in the U.S., train cars with human shackles, coffin liners which hold entire families and I felt panic, and sick to my stomach.

I didn’t work for a week, up day and night reading this stuff.  I dug deeper and deeper into truth or lies…I had to know if it was real or not.  Somewhere along the line, I came upon John F. Kennedy’s assassination and the U.S. Treasury.  It seemed JFK had taken the American people’s money away from the U.S. Treasury and created Silver Certificates.  The money was backed by our silver, not the private bankers money of the U.S.Treasury (which is by the way NOT a government agency).  Kennedy signed executive order 11110 and five months later was killed and the money control was given back to the bankers!

It made sense to me.  Money is power all over the world.  I watched video after video of Kennedy’s assassination and how he was shot in the neck, a definite “death shot” and the head.  As a nurse, I knew that a shot to the head or neck would most likely end in death.  On one of the sites I was looking at, it discussed leaders who had been assassinated and Martin Luther King Jr., was there.  I started to read about his assassination and how he was also shot in the neck, and I thought WOW, what a similar coincidence!  Several days and nights passed while I read and researched, feeling all along that the more I dug, the more I uncovered.

After about a week of constant internet, taking naps, barely eating and only getting up to pee, I realized that Martin Luther King represented the black horse in carrying the scales of balance; the balance of equality and justice and that he had paid the last sacrifice for it…his life.  It was a time closer to me than today.  When I was in school, we were the students who were sent into the Africa-American neighborhoods to go to school, housed in trailers and separate buildings.  Our once “white” classes had become black and white.  Anger filled the air from both sides and even within the classes groups segregated.

Teachers spoke arrogantly and drilled equality into our heads while all the time fear permeated in their eyes waiting for a riot or rebellion but it never came.  After time, we blended into one but many straight A students began to fail, some dropped out and it was a high price to pay for the good of the world.  Lives were changed forever and destinies were altered.  It is funny when I look at America today and the subtle separations in the work place and even video stores where “black” music and movies are separated from others, where especially when Obama was elected how it black this and white that was and still is the core of subjects.

Race should never be brought into subjects which include the nation as one, as a whole.  I do not think about those times in a negative way, although I was one of the straight A students who dropped out of school in 12th grade.  As an adult, I look back on that time and feel proud that I had an opportunity to be a part of a changing history, even if a high price was paid for it.  Those students were never mentioned and the effects it had on us as productive members of society were never mentioned either.  We were the ghost of change that no one saw, that no one remembered, yet we never forget.  Subtle segregation destroys our sacrifice and the many years it took to become regrouped into life and pick up where we were left behind.

I wondered about the end of the world, how this New World Order “take over” played a role in the painting.  I saw so many similarities and began to see the Four Horsemen as segments of time, that their colors represented races of people, then from my medical training, I saw that the four primary races were the same colors as the Four Horsemen and that time was passing in the same way as they were ordered:  White (Caucasoid), Red (Australoid), Black (Negroid) and Pale (Mongoloid).  As you can imagine, I thought I was going insane!  Had I uncovered the ultimate mystery?  Was this the meaning of the Four Horsemen?  There is another mystery I uncovered about the world and I realized destiny.

From childhood, this dream and nearly everything I’ve experienced has tied into the painting.  My rebellion, disappreciation for life and learning valuable lessons, to have the humble and sacred opportunity to look into someone’s eyes when they are dying and seeing beyond the physical or material and into the core of a soul.  The two most things that have affected me as a nurse were with old, African-American women.  I worked in a cath lab where they run a scope through the groin and into the heart to see of you have any blockages.  There was an old, woman who had chest pain and needed the scope.  She was afraid, like intuition.  She didn’t want to have the procedure done.  I respect that in people because often times something happens.

I had spent extra time with her trying to ease her fear.  The doctors called for her and I walked over to her bed.  I said:  “The doctors are ready, everything will be alright.”  Her pupils were dialated in flight or fight, the ultimate sign of fear…she didn’t say a word.  I leaned over to kiss her cheek and she grabbed a little gold cross I wore on my neck and held me there, close to her.  She was staring at the cross, still not saying a word.  A tear rolled from the corner of her eye, she looked into my eyes and I knew she trusted me and even more so, she trusted that cross.  I took it off and placed it in her hand and she was wheeled away.  Was that moment for her or me?  Did she teach me about faith that day?

The other woman was in the emergency room, she was old and I mean old!  She was over 100 years old.  I remember thinking of all the things she’d seen in her life, all the changes and what she had to have been through.  It became very busy and she was left waiting for a room upstairs.  After about 2 hours, I was going to look in on her,  I walked toward the curtain pulled around her bed and saw through a crack in the curtain her curled up body, hunched over holding a huge magnifying glass in one hand and something else in the other.  I thought:  “What is she looking at?”  As I got closer, I saw it was one of those little New Testaments.  She was reading the bible and it was one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen!

A smile slowly crept across my face in the middle of a war zone emergency room.  Everything stopped for those few seconds and I stood in awe staring at her.  I imagined how absolutely huge those words were to her eyes with that gigantic magnifying glass.  I walked up to her bedside and read through the looking-glass with her.  She was reading Psalms.  I wished I had paid better attention to exactly where she was reading.  There was probably a message there for me but in my haste I missed it.  But I remembered that day, I remembered her and I will never forget that it was one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen.

The Journal of Dreams 01/12/2010

The Black Horse is complete except for his hair which requires a lot of meticulous planning.  His hair will have to be applied when the canvases are off the wall.  They are only hung on the wall by strips of tape and tacs, no nails so there is a lot of “play” in the movement of the canvases as I paint.  If the canvases move when the hair is applied the hair will stretch and move from its original position.  The hair will follow.

I learned a new way to paint today.  Never having formal training this is very exciting for me.  It was in painting the wheat and barley under the black horse.  I was struggling trying to make long strands of grass.  The paint would run out on the brush and when I tried to place more paint and place the brush where I left off, it did not match up and looked broken in flow.

After several attempts I layed on the floor next to the painting and remembered the free feeling in finally painting the black horse.  Before I knew it, I was spinning the brush in my fingers using all the paint around the circumference of the brush and creating blades of grass reaching over 30 inches.  It felt so free, that I found it hard to stop making layers of different colored grasses.

Becoming one with the brush is what happened.  It was so lightly held that it was difficult to feel it as it twirled.  I will definitely paint with this technique when I start other projects.  It looked like a madman’s painting technique I am sure but it created such free beauty.  The difficulty is in the wheat and barley seed pods.  They will need a lot of work and detail.

I brought my neighbor, a police officer over to see the magnificent black horse.  I was bursting at the seams to show someone.  He stood staring, somewhat of an overwhelmed look in his eyes, maybe from the size of it and the entire story.  I found myself out of breath telling him so much information in a very short time.  We talked about the sky and I have a surprise for him…

The Journal of Dreams 01/11/2010

Today I am too tired to fight about things I cannot change.  I remembered my old dad telling me “Don’t go around trying to change things, it’s been that way for a hundred years.”  It is very difficult for me to accept it when it is as simply put.  Imagine if no one ever tried to change anything-ever?

My apologies if I offended anyone.

I have come to a decision to add a page to the official website called hemorrhage where I will write about what I think is wrong and how it affects us, our nation and the world.  Then people can make the decision between right and wrong for themselves.  This page is directly related to Scene II-God and Truth-The hemorrhage of Pigs!  It is where the second painting of politics exist within the first painting of religion.  It is the beginning of the painting within a painting and where the ancient battle of good v.s evil is alive and well.

I am working on sketches of Kennedy.  He is a difficult man to sketch.  His jaw is larger than normal.  In researching JFK, I found information which I did not agree with, like his father being a boot legger, JFK’s own sexual infidelities but then I tried to imagine what it was like for him to rise from the life of his fathers becoming what he came to be.  It was a great achievement, prehaps the greatest for any mortal man.  His heart was good, or he would not have made it as far as he did.  He reminds me of me, rising from the “ashes”, seeking good for humanity and not just for myself.

Martin Luther King was the same way.  He had an alledged affair and at sometime his way of thinking must have changed and it must have been like the world around him came into focus.  Did he realize that he was a very small piece of a much bigger plan.  Is it when you realize this, you begin realizing your destiny?  I should have invested some time of my life in philosophy.  Pondering is with me even in my dreams.  I once heard a man say it is far better to die standing than to live your life on your knees.  That is a good philosophy.

The Journal of Dreams 01/10/2010

I thought about yesterday’s angry blog a lot.  Sitting in my car before work, I wondered if the most successful artist were “airheads” that never made intelligent remarks or showed their true feelings about life in general.  I wondered if I am defeating myself before I even begin this new life.  I wonder about the entire world sometimes.

The Journal of Dreams 01/09/2010

There are many things I still need to complete the painting.  I wrote movie stars, corporations, churches and the response was ZERO!  I really do not expect a response anymore and as I stated before, I am not religious but I am learning to make my own decisions.  I suppose how we treat each other is what is ailing me, how our priorities are about “me” and to hell with the rest of the world!  When did all of this happen?  Working in the inner city trauma centers, it is easy to feel as though everyday is a battle.  The moment you step through the door, you are at war!  Yet people think that it is a privilege for someone to save your life when it is the other way around.  This country has lost the simple humbleness of human nature.  

I did something the other day after seventeen years as a nurse that I never thought I would do.  When a patient demanded that I give her morphine because she ran out of money for her heroine.  I thought:  “Who does she think she is?”  She doesn’t work, drains the system, my taxes pays for her addiction, her ambulance rides, her entire life!  She demands drugs, treats people like shit, calls us cunts and whores, so I asked her:  “Do you need morphine?”  She said:  “YES, you stupid fuck.”  I said:  “Your realize I can do that for you-right?”  Her eyes went down, she knew she had overstepped the invisible boundary.  I continued…I said:  “I can save your life, YOUR LIFE!  What can you do for me?”  She started crying and I walked away.  The doctor didn’t give her morphine and she put her clothes on and went to the next hospital.  

Like these medical shows where people make a million dollars an episode to act like us, yet we can save their lives!  What about the athletes who make millions and we can save their lives too.  Look at all the actors and musicians who are dead from drug overdoses.  Could it be that they have just a little too much money and needed something to spend it on…I mean really, how many things can you buy a Saks’ Fifth Avenue before there is nothing left to buy…really?  

Who thought Tiger Woods was a saint-you?  I know I surely didn’t!  A sex fiend with so much money he doesn’t know what to do with it!  Do you have enough money to pay your rent for 6 months if something happened to you?  What about a year if you needed to?  That is the problem, you have enough today so you go watch a $15.00 movie and line the pockets of someone who DOES NOT give a damn about you.  America makes icons of dope addicts just because they have talent that appeals to them, is there not more to life?  

Profound inspiration exist in a world not so far from your own!  

Pulitzer Prize Photo-Kevin Carter (photographer) who at 33 committed suicide

 

I believe that America is the great whore in Revelation.  When You read it, New York City and other equivalent cities come to mind and those cities have something in common.  New York is the money capital of America, even Wall Street is there.  The Statue of Liberty (having a golden cup in her hand full of abominations and filthiness of her fornication).  I spent my life walking around blind with 20/20 vision, and finally I am beginning to see!  

http://www.essortment.com/all/statueoflibery_rnvz.htm  

Originally the Statue of Liberty meant freedom, a safe harbor for all who would come to America, but over time she has become the icon for nonetheless, true filth and abominations of the earth compared to the time of her origination.  It was not meant to be this way.  I watched a show, something about the Free Masons and a murder and the symbols behind the Statue of Liberty.  

http://www.google.com/search?q=free+masons+statue+of+liberty&sourceid=ie7&rls=com.microsoft:en-us:IE-Address&ie=&oe=  

http://www.google.com/search?hl=en&rls=com.microsoft%3Aen-us%3AIE-Address&q=free+masons+statue+of+liberty+murder&aq=f&aqi=&aql=&oq=  

It is not a human being described, it is what the city stands for:  

The “great whore”, of the biblical book of Revelation is featured in chapters 17 and 18.  Many passages define symbolic meanings inherent in the text.  

17:4 And the woman was arrayed in purple and scarlet colour, and decked with gold and precious stones and pearls, having a golden cup in her hand full of abominations and filthiness of her fornication:
17:5 And upon her forehead was a name written, MYSTERY, BABYLON THE GREAT, THE MOTHER OF HARLOTS AND ABOMINATIONS OF THE EARTH.
17:6 And I saw the woman drunken with the blood of the saints, and with the blood of the martyrs of Jesus: and when I saw her, I wondered with great admiration.
17:9 And here is the mind which hath wisdom. The seven heads are seven mountains, on which the woman sitteth [King James Version; the New International Version Bible uses “hills” instead of “mountains”].   

From wikipedia:  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Statue_of_Liberty
…it has been claimed that the seven spikes or diadem atop of the crown epitomize the Seven Seas and seven continents  

17:10 And there are seven kings: five are fallen, and one is, and the other is not yet come; and when he cometh, he must continue a short space.
17:11 And the beast that was, and is not, even he is the eighth, and is of the seven, and goeth into perdition.
17:12 And the ten horns which thou saw are ten kings, which have received no kingdom as yet; but receive power as kings one hour with the beast.
17:15 And he saith unto me, The waters which thou sawest, where the whore sitteth, are peoples, and multitudes, and nations, and tongues.
17:18 And the woman which thou sawest is that great city, which reigneth over the kings of the earth.  

The Journal of Dreams 01/08/2010

There is no time to do much before work except smoke cigarettes, drink coffee, and stare at the black horse.  I think he has way too much hair and the major screw up here is that the hair crosses over all four canvases right at their joints (the cross in the middle where they all connect).  That means I have to apply the hair across all four canvases and make sure it is totally dry, then cut it so very straight between the canvases.  If the edge where the hair is becomes rubbed on something, it will rip off.  What a horrid mistake!

I called my old father and we had a conversation about it.  Life really makes people wise (sometimes).  He can always think of an answer.  One day I’ll pick up the phone to call him for an answer and he won’t be there anymore, just like my mother who died in 2006.  I don’t know how many times I thought about picking up the phone and calling her.  Ironically she died because she received a double dose of insulin in a place where she should have been safe.  I was the only one who did not attend her funeral, I could not trust myself.  The anger was too strong.

It could be a moment of wondering if I had it all to do over again, what would I change but I cannot think that I would change much.  Self preservation blankets me and I avoid relationships, friends, family, or anything which has the ability to destroy me.  When I paint this painting I wonder if my mother was the nurturing vessel which brought me to this point in life.  Evaluating her life, I do not know of any other achievement that could top it.  Am I her destiny and what it was all for?

There are a lot of skeletons in our families closets, a lot of damage was done and time healed some of the wounds.  I have 4 novels I have worked on about these skeletons.  When I write, my grand imagination lets me see it like a movie in my mind.  I feel the warm, summer night air, smell the neighborhood, hear the music and see the moon glisten in the distance.  Pulling from memories is a wonderful thing in creation, like the Interference Blue’s mimic of moonlight…wonderful.

All my life, as far back as I can remember there was a silent traveler with me which as an adult I called: A Sense of Sadness.  When I was 32 my mother handed me a book of poetry I wrote when I was 12 and every poem in it was about death or dying.  It was a shocking Revelation for me because I had wondered often times when the sadness really began and why.  I couldn’t believe it had been at that early of an age and to have written about it then, it originated earlier.

In analyzing how I could have possibly known anything about death at that age, I could not remember any instance.  No one near me had died, none of my friends family members had died and to this day, I still cannot remember how it started.  The similarity of my mother dying at 12 and returning to tell the tale made me wonder about dreams, memories and how we protect ourselves from psychological pain by forgetting.  I wonder…

The Journal of Dreams 01/07/2010

The black swirls are dry enough to highlight with Interference Blue but I can not find it.  Interference Blue is a white powder that when disturbed turns metallic blue.  For me it seems a color associated with heaven.  Tonight my daughter and I are heading to the craft store, I will look for it there.  In the interim, I will apply the human or synthetic hair to the black horse.  I can’t find that either…frustrating.  Out into the great wide open to find what I need…

We are back after roaming the entire city!  I found a synthetic black hair with silver in it, 18″ in length.  The human hair at that place was outrageous!  When applying synthetic hair you always have to be aware of heat applied.  I usually blow-dry the hair after applying sealer.  The distance is critical or the hair will try to turn into an afro as it shrinks.  I bought human red and blond hair for the red and pale horses.  They are in the distance and the hair can be much shorter.

This hair is different from what I am used to working with.  Usually I work with hair on a track,  This hair is one continuous 36″ piece that requires cutting in the middle.  It is crazy because I absolutely cannot stand for the hair to get stuck to my hands.  It sets off a panic within me as my fingers become intertwined with the binding hair.  After I work on this, I will write more this evening.  It is snowing out, so it is a perfect time to work on inside things.

The hair is in its place but I used far more than I wanted.  It covers the riders chest that I worked so hard on to make it look muscular and in correct anatomy…it was indeed a “pretty” chest.  The swirls within the horse’s body were created by mixing Yes paste (a thick, professional grade glue) and black acrylic paint.  I sealed them with hard wood floor polymer.  I suppose the evaporation of moisture from the glue made them shrink.  I would have liked the swirls to maintain their deep texture.

John, the carpenter said something very inspiring.  I was talking about the small army of black horses under the current horse and he said: “when they x-ray the painting, they will see all of those.  They always x-ray famous paintings”.  He must have been impressed.  I felt my cheeks flush up reminding me of the shyness I used to have before I grew distant and cold in my heart after becoming a nurse.  I should have done art all along, it is my true love.

I worked on the official website some more.  Updating the event board and coloring it is more appealing.  I placed clues to mysteries on some pages.  People keep calling me Sir, I suppose most people think I am a man and leaving it that way might just get me further faster.  The website allows 5 pages, so I purchased 5 extra for 10 total to make a store for prints and associated items.  I saw mugs, hats, t-shirts and all kinds of stuff which can be made.

Well, I work the next two days.  What it feels like is when you start to get the flu or a cold, when you feel achy and a little dizzy.  I’ve felt this way hundreds of times and know I am not getting sick, I am just tired.  This job ends on the 28th.  Twenty days and 12 shifts.  Imagine working a job where you count down the days until you leave several times a year, for years and years.  The gypsy in me misses the freeway I’ve traveled so many times.

I stand outside at work in the middle of the night smoking and listening to the freeway sounds and see the headlights calling me.  Sometimes I feel like just walking away and never looking back, then I stomp out my cigarette, take a deep breath and turn toward the door.  I pulled my shoulders back and say:  “One more year, just one more year.”  When I step through the doors and smell the “hospital smell”, I forget about my dreams…I am a dedicated little soldier.

The Journal of Dreams 01/06/2010

Got up too late to do anything before work.  Feeling comatose.  Work over rides dreams today while functioning in survival mode.  That’s OK.  I did a lot the past 5 days…a whole lot.

When I get home in the morning, it takes about an hour to get sleepy so in that hour I will make a generic letter seeking investors or corporate donator of things I need to complete the painting.  On days when time is limited, I’ll copy and paste it, changing what is needed and get 10-20 letters sent out via email then I won’t feel like time was wasted or that I didn’t reach my goals.  Good idea?

Have to go to work now.

The Journal of Dreams 01/05/2010

Oh man…I got up at 5pm, drank 4 cups of coffee, watched it turn into night within 30 minutes of getting up, laid on the couch looking at that damned black horse.  I turned over and went back to sleep until 8pm, forced myself to get up and stay up.  My eyes remained blurry and felt like paper cuts were in them, I made more coffee.  Google images is the most excellent source for research.  After searching black horses, red horses, white horses, painted horses, sketched horses, reared horses, horse’s heads and just about any aspect of a horse there is, I began painting over the black horse again.

It took about an hour to thinning cover him with white once more.  I believe that canvas is going to be double its original weight!  I have used 3-4 ounce bottles of white paint covering and recovering the 30 or so legs and maybe 12 heads and partial bodies…amazing.  This time I covered him completely.  Tonight I will paint the horse-period….to be continued…

It is 5am and the black horse’s base is done and he looks majestic!  How it began was as usual, the brush tightly in my hand, afraid to be free but then I realized:  If I make a mistake, I will just paint over it, it is not so hard…lolol.  So here I am standing there, tired beyond tired looking at the massive space I have to paint him in.  I start with the brush low, in my left hand (I am left-handed), at about the level of my ribs.  I hold it with 2 fingers instead of my entire hand and let go!  I let the brush go where it wanted to in a soft, flowing way up the hind quarter, to the rear, across the back and into the shoulder as far up as I could reach.

Standing there wobbling on my tiptoes, I let the brush drop and paint splashed all over.  I stood back and looked at the frame of the black horse and was finally pleased.  I cleaned up the mess and got on the step stool using the same technique for the head and neck.  The head was not right, so I did it again, and again and again.  I wanted the horse’s head down in a loyal, powerful pose.  I had tried it up but he was too close to the locust ascending from the bottomless pit, they were eye to eye.  I left the head off and took the canvases down to work on the detail of the body; thousands and thousands of swirls and texture highlighted in metallic blue.

The Journal of Dreams 01/04/2010

There is a guy, John who answered an ad I placed on a local site to make custom wood canvases.  He is making them for me and will be bringing 2 of them Friday.  He is a fine woodworker.  I spent some time last night at work (SSSHHHH!), trying to draw out the shipping crates needed for the 30 canvases of the painting.  I have a descent design but need professional guidance.  Imagine the crates breaking open in transit.

I spent a few minutes when I came home figuring out this black horse in the Journal of Measures.  I am determined to fix him once and for all!  My greatest downfall in painting and drawing is the horse so it is no wonder I am having this difficulty.  I am becoming quite good at the head but it is the body which looks strange to me.  On my next day off I will focus on setting myself free.

There are a lot of problems at work, adding undue stress on me.  The patient load is designed to have a tech working with a certain amount of the nurse’s patients but these techs are often nowhere to be found so the nurse’s workload increases to nearly unmanageable.  The economy has staffing dwindling down so sometimes I am the only nurse left at 4 or 5am…crazy!

My desire to paint is eating at me on the nights I work because I am not naturally a night person, so one night takes 2 days to recover, then it is time to do it again.  I have set a goal to paint something, write in the journals or social networks every time I am off.  I calculated what needs to be done in what timeframes and set goals.  Although not to the minute, it is time to sleep now…

The Journal of Dreams 01/03/2010

I work at night, thirteen hours in a very fast paced and busy emergency room.  I have been a nurse longer than I have been a painter.  Sadness overwhelms me often times when caring for sick people.  There was a time in my life when I had no respect for life, drove my car 168 miles an hour, tested destiny and lived like there was no tomorrow.  It was during that time I attempted to sketch The Revelation Painting several times and finally came to the solid conclusion that I had not earned the right.

After becoming a nurse I went straight into the critical care and emergency areas.  It was high paced, high stress, and in dealing with life and death on a daily basis, after five years my respect for life changed.  I found myself telling people how stupid it was to drive a car over the speed limit.  Images of torn and broken bodies were stamped into my memories and I had become a changed person.  It was also during this time I began having episodes where I would go blind for 30 minutes at a time.

Stress was taking a toll on me.  The blindness was induced by migraines without the immediate pain, at least until the next day where 1/2 of my brain felt as though it had been crushed!  During this time I began to gain weight and my signature even changed.  When a person’s signature changes, it is considered a major life event.  I had not even thought about The Revelation Painting for several years, favoring writing poetry, learning to paint independently and planning to publish a book.

The truth of the matter was that I knew Nursing was not what I wanted to grow old doing.  I began searching for a way out.  I thought that travel nursing would give me an opportunity to find a place where I felt at home as a nurse, where I could back off of the high stress, go back to school and move forward instead of breaking my back, not sleeping well, smoking more, not managing my finances, essentially living like a life-saving zombie.  I was saving everyone but killing myself.

At work one night I was in a hurry and didn’t know how to use a piece of equipment.  I was taking care of a full blown, dying HIV patient and through my own ignorance ran a needle full of blood all the way up my index finger.  It did not penetrate my finger but I was closer to dying than ever in my careless life and I recognized it.  I came home and when I went to bed, I prayed and thanked God for the first time in my life that day.

When I woke up the memories of Revelation were fresh on my mind for the first time in a long, long time.  I saw the creatures with eyes all over their wings clearer than I ever had.  I sat down and sketched them and they were perfect!  That was the awakening of a sleeping dream and when the painting rekindled the passion for it in my heart.  Beginning to look ahead and into the future, I began working on plans for the painting.  I had finally earned the right and I knew it.

The Journal of Dreams 01/02/2010

I am astounded and crushed with disappointment and in the turn out for the new site.  I am unsure exactly what I was expecting.  I will have to test every aspect of the site and see if it is appealing, discover its faults, look at all available options and fix them.  I like to think I am intelligent enough to do that.  I feel angry, wondering if this dream is clouding my judgement, but most of all, I feel hurt.  I thought that the site would bring people from all over the world, exploding in interest…well, it did not and tomorrow is another day.  Maybe my resistance against religion is playing a role in this, something that I cannot see…like faith.  I have always said I have to see to believe and maybe that is wrong.  If there is a God,, that means there is a Devil and maybe he is trying to stop me, it is a religious painting after all.

Today I have four canvases to paint, The Four Horsemen.  This will be the 9th time I have repainted the black horse.  He is stubborn.  The vision I had in my head is not easy to paint and I am realizing that I must set myself free in order to paint him.  Every time it is his body which looks out of proportion compared to the rider and the horse’s own head.  I imagined the horse to be much bigger than I am allowing myself to paint him.  I went through the sketches in the Journal of Measures and can see that he is over nine feet tall but I keep painting him seven feet tall.  It requires a lot of white paint and I made a critical error using red permanent marker because I could not see the correct pencil lines to follow, now blue, yellow and lead.  The red marker keeps bleeding through the white requiring coats of paint.

Another mystery I have yet to uncover is that I have over 10.000.00 views on my combined sites and only 6 comments.  Do people think I am insane, or full of shit, or what?  At least if they do, I wish they would say it.  I checked and rechecked the comment ability on my sites and even had my daughter write a test comment from her computer and it works.  What could be keeping people from commenting?  I will look for a site analytic program that can tell me where these views are coming from for the official site.  I imagine people reading the blogs with their eyes wide open, biting their fingernails trying to see “the big picture” and thinking it is impossible to create such a massive painting.  A lot of times people say:  “Where do you keep it?”  I laugh and say: “In my apartment.”  They say: “God, where do you live?”

The Journal of Dreams-The Finale’

Today marks the twelfth year of the making of The Revelation Painting.  The official website goes up today and there have been countless hours spent looking forward and preparing for today.  I cannot believe today is here!  Although it is exciting, it is scary as well.  Today the realization hit me that it is serious now, more serious than it had been for these twelve years.  My mission is now etched in concrete and I alone am the master of its destiny.  What will it be like to awaken to the painting away from me a year from now, for the first time as it travels the world?  Like a child leaving home for the first time, I know it will sicken me.  What will it be like to go to sleep and not see the visions of what to paint tomorrow?

Time and creation is an odd thing for the human psyche.  This painting has become a part of me, my companion that I have toted with me for a lifetime.  Panic has not set in yet as I continue to enjoy the time I have to make this painting come alive.  I wonder if Michelangelo felt this way when he had to let go of his most magnificent works…forever?  Although I planned for the painting to travel to world with its messages, the world seems like a very huge place now and in the light of recent events globally, what if the turmoil of a country had a direct impact on the survival of the painting?  I just keep imagining pieces of the painting scattered among the ruins of a once vibrant city…an artist’ imagination.

Let me live for today and not let my imagination spoil my dreams.  Today will be spent with constant updating of social pages to increase the flow of people, awareness of the painting and to create a following.  I had run ads for a marketer who would work in their spare time (currently without pay), to promote the painting but received no response.  I can understand that simply because it is not their dream.  I imagine the value of the painting will soar and we could have made an arrangement.  Nevertheless, I will market it as best I can and try to build a network, offer incentives and maybe even ownership of pieces of the painting for a limited time.  That way people who are in need, will receive but not as charity.

Today is the first day of the rest of my life and yesterday is gone forever.  There are many things to do, many plans to make, secrets and mysteries to blend into the painting and time continues to tick forward.  Life truly passes in the blink of an eye, and before I know it, this year will end and it would seem as though a dream.  I am up for the challenge and will consciously acknowledge everyday, several times a day so that it does not pass in the blink of an eye for me.  It is important to become organized and follow a strategic plan, to have goals and meet them, evaluate and reevaluate.  Today I will create a mission statement and follow it, I will look at the painting as not just art but as a business.